Myloe Banks sits in his room, looking through an old book. This won't be his house for long. This manor will never be his again. His parents are gone, disappeared down the cold snowy crevices of the deep valley bordering their house. He's only 16, mind you. Everything always seemed too cold, the fireplaces never heating his fourth floor room. He adjusts his circular glasses, the chain clinking against his necklace. He flips the pendant over to remind himself of his parents. M, W. Myloe. Wynona & William.

'Come on, Mr. Banks. Off we go,' A man appears in his doorway, 'Your bags are in the car.'

*

'I'll ask again, where is Piercebridge?'

'I don't know! I don't...'

'Well, where could he be?'

'I... don't... Get off me!'

'I can burn those pretty little wings again if you want.'

'No! NO! NO! STOP! STOP STOP! St...'

Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone.

He's gone. Kristoffer isn't in their bed. Ashton wakes up from the night terror, thanking the heavens it didn't turn into another sleep paralysis bout. There is a little note on Kristoffer's side table. Ashton places his glasses on his nose, barely able to read Kristoffer's scrawly handwriting.

I'm sorry for being out so early, I'll be home early to make up for it! I had to be called into work early for some stuff, so don't worry, I'm not dead. I love you, see you later.
-Kris ❤︎

Ashton smiles at puts the note back. Nothing to worry about...

*

'Sorry, Eddie. You wanted to talk?' Kristoffer closes the door to their office behind him. Eddie raises their eyebrows, corners of their lips turning up in satisfaction.

'Just on time, Kristoffer. Come in,' Eddie gestures to the green armchair facing their desk. As he sits down, he takes in the surroundings. An antique gramophone spins a jazz record, recognised by him as Louie Armstrong. The wallpaper is sage and forest green stripes, dotted with decorative golden flowers. On top of the spruce planks on the floor, a large circular pale blue rug, the desk on top of it. An old brick fireplace is behind Eddie's ornate black leather armchair. Eddie has one foot next to them on the chair, face resting on their knee as they write something down in a notebook in black fountain pen. Some things on their desk include an old soup tin used for storing pencils and pens, a mug with the phrase "#1 Boss" on it, steaming black coffee inside of it, and an antique vase holding fresh pink and white tulips. The fire crackles, and Eddie turns their hawk-like gaze toward Kristoffer.

'I'm unsure if you are aware, but your partner in your presentation you did a few days ago, Stuart, was murdered in a back room of this very building,' Kristoffer's heart jumps in anxiety, but he keeps his look cool, 'I was wondering if you had any leads? The forensic clues were unreadable. Did you see him leave with anybody? A stranger? Someone that wasn't meant to be there?'

'No, Eddie. Nothing I could observe. I was presenting with him one minute, and he was gone the next,' Kristoffer's tone wobbles slightly, but Eddie thankfully does not notice. They sigh, moving their leg back down next to their other, covering their eyes with their hands. Kristoffer feels a wave of guilt smash through him like a hammer.

'Jesus Christ... this is going to take years to get round everyone who was there,' They mutter. Eddie looks back up at Kristoffer, the makeup under their eyes smudged, revealing their dark circles, 'Sorry. I just wish I hadn't invited so many people now.'

'Have you checked the security camera?'

'The files were corrupted. I'm worried this goes deeper than we thought,' Eddie grumbles, blinking away a stray tear from their eye, 'What if this properly goes back to the AMI? There was an entire team of people behind Dr. JAB that were never found. If it's them, the Starshine Committee is gone forever.'

'It won't be. We're so close to abolishing the AMI. I promise that we'll get this sorted,' Kristoffer stands from his seat.

Eddie grins at him, 'I'm counting on you, Kristoffer.'

*

'Alexis, I am home!' Cheri shouts into the house, untying her roller skates on the front step. She places them in her nook of the front porch next to a muddy pair of trainers and an unopened case of Coca-Cola. "For emergencies" were her reason for the case, but Alexis never quite understands what type of emergency would require a coke.

'Hey, how are you doing? How is everyone?' Alexis walks from the living room to the front door. Cheri looks away from her – for some reason, she can't meet her gaze. From her peripherals, she sees Alexis cross her arms and raises an eyebrow, 'Cheri? What's going on.'

'I am worried. Charlotte informed me that she has seen Niall Trenton around,' Cheri steps into the house. The warm. The safe haven. Where all her worries aren't the biggest deal in her life. Away from the biting responsibilities of the world snapping up her brain like a piece of meat.

'Niall... I thought they must've locked that guy up. Whatever, don't you worry yourself,' Alexis gives her a one-armed hug, ruffling her hair, 'We've all got each other. Don't worry yourself. It's for us adults, like me, Kristoffer, Ashton, Hana... you know, it's all fine. I made you some dinner, eat something. That always stops your worries.

*

'I wish I could meet you for the first time right now. Right here. Do you think, if I had, none of this would happen, or would we have never met? Was that the only time that I could've met you? I'm not one of those sappy people who would say I would have lived this ten times over for you. But I wouldn't give you up. I wouldn't. Does that make me a bad person? Do you think I'm a bad person? I've done too much to not be, right? Too much. It wasn't worth it. The people I've hurt are well. I'm not. You don't remember him. He was Piercebridge's case. He never did anything to me. Nothing horrible. I was the bad guy. I think... I think I always will be.'

Eudora's grave stands in the freezing rain beating down on the remains of the Burntside theatre. Niall's tears flow down his face, holding himself as he sits cross legged facing the headstone. His clothes are soaked through. He has nothing to get home with aside from his shaking legs.

Kristoffer's car rolls slowly through the rush hour traffic. His eyes catch on the remains of the Burntside theatre. In his vision, he can see the hunched over silhouette of somebody crying. In a split-second decision, he parks up next to the theatre and makes his way into the ruin, despite the rain battering his body. As he gets closer, he finally realises who the man is. He's never seen him so fragile, so broken, so desolate, so disheartened, his guard let down so far. It makes Kristoffer feel a pang of guilt.

'Niall. Get up.'

Niall lifts his head up. Kristoffer offers him a reluctant hand, eyes thin and eyebrows furrowed, 'It's pouring rain, and it'd be cruel of me to leave you here.'

'Wh... Thank you,' Niall grabs Kristoffer's hand, slipping slightly with the rain covering their hands. Once Niall is standing, he takes in the sight of Kristoffer. A few inches taller than him, dark green eyes slicing through the dark, neatly sectioned dreadlocks brushing his shoulders. The faraway sky is strawberry lemonade pink, purple dusted in the crevices of the cavernous cerulean clouds. Something clicks inside of Niall's brain, his body burning in some sort of disparaging happiness. Niall lets out a strangled breath as he begins to follow after Kristoffer, 'Why wouldn't you leave me here? Do you not hate me?'

'Niall. I hate you, yes. But I'd rather fix that than leave you to feel like total shit in a graveyard,' Kristoffer opens the passenger side door, 'You just need some kindness and love in your life. It won't make you a better person, but it might help.'

Kristoffer starts the car, turning the radio down to a low volume and asking Niall, 'What's your address?'

'T-Twenty-seven Huntsfair Avenue.'

They start to drive down the streets in awkward, thick silence. The traffic has slowed down a little, a thin queue of metal boxes in the lights of run-down old shops, banks, restaurants, garages. Niall wants to talk. He wants apologies he's never made to spill from his mouth, his heart. He only feels his throat seize up every time he makes an attempt, residing himself to staring out the windows into the dismal puddles spraying nearby pedestrians and splattering up the sides of cars. A tabby street cat scampers into a back alley, a woman exiting an office, a man closing down his dry-cleaning shop. He looks over at Kristoffer – his knuckles are turning white against the steering wheel, eyes intent on the road.

He isn't the little shy eighteen-year-old who came to work at a shitty job to pay for his mother's expensive medical treatments. Or the twenty-year-old who destroyed an entire theatre with a fire-breathing dragon. Or the twenty-four year old who played a part in solving Dr. JAB and taking down Jebezel Barker. Niall can see that he finally seems to have bravery in his bones, sense in his mind, love in his heart. Magic surrounding him. Niall snaps his eyes away before Kristoffer can realise he's being stared rather intently at. The shops begin to turn into orange-yellow leaved trees and expensive-looking detached houses.

'See you soon Niall,' Kristoffer points out the house – 27 Huntsfair Avenue. Niall utters a "thank you", barely a hoarse whisper, before exiting the car. His hair is soaked, dripping icicles onto his shoulders He feels a wave of guilt smash through him like a hammer as he watches Kristoffer's car drive away. It puts someone he thought he hated until just twenty minutes ago into his mind. More than he'd like...

*

Two women. Two blonde haired women. Two women with blonde hair down to their waists. Twenty-nine year old twins. Same mask. Same clothes. Same voice. A sixteen year old boy with curly black hair, pale skin and pale eyes. Same mask as the twins, different clothes. An older man with greying hair, green eyes and tawny skin. Same mask as the others, different clothes. A woman with a strawberry-blonde pixie cut, milky freckled skin, and deep sapphire eyes. Same mask, different clothes. The door suddenly bursts open.

'You lot are all idiots. Do you understand how much trouble this murder could get you in? Get me in? Get the entire company in? You could've killed him more discreetly! He was presenting, for shit's sake!'

Myloe Banks, the dark haired boy, takes his porcelain mask off of his face. He tosses his hair to get it out of his face, refusing to show fear. His accent is very upper-class, 'Sorry boss. You did tell us to get rid of him while the rest were distracted. It was a good time, especially since no one saw him leave.'

'Not while he was presenting with the Kristoffer Piercebridge! That guy can and will be the most persistent little shit when it comes to being a detective. There's no way we aren't at risk, especially after he got past Dr. JAB!'

'Boss, we've got past at least twenty-five murders in the last six months. I don't understand how that's unsatisfactory to you,' The strawberry-blonde woman takes her mask off too, revealing her square face and Irish accent. Heavenly Harrison raises a pale eyebrow, smoothing down her black cardigan, 'Plus, Piercebridge was distracted by his presentation, so he can't know much.'

'Yes, but that's the problem. He's going to research it to within an inch of his life with those other little people he's got in his detective group. His partner, their best friend, and a sixteen-year-old Frenchwoman.'

'Well, we're at no threat. They sound utterly shit at detective work, boss,' Juno FitzRoy takes off his mask, green eyes shooting daggers at Heavenly. He smooths down his prickly moustache and beard as he continues to speak in a self-assured manner, 'Anyhow, we'll make it harder for him. We can say we weren't on the list. I've been thinking, and if he does catch us, couldn't you get his head of department to fire him with your powers, boss?'

'I guess we could get him fired, but he's a smart man. He'll get everyone and everything in this stupid country to believe his word. I'm only so powerful. He has ten times the manipulation I do power. Slimy bastard...'

'Also, Juno,' Zeva Thurn removes her mask, tossing her long blonde locks over her right shoulder. She narrows her cat-like eyes at Juno, 'Surely we are at a threat. Myloe is fifteen times smarter than you will ever be, in my opinion, and he is only sixteen. Surely, if this French girl is smart enough to solve Dr. JAB, she is smart enough to solve a murder.'

Zara Thurn hands her mask to her twin sister, 'I agree. Juno, you are a stupid man.'

'Hey! Let's not get in a fight. Come up with some ideas. Maybe even try to push yourself into the Frenchwoman's social circle of little troubled alternative teenagers. She lives around the outskirts of London, not too far from here. Her name is Cheri Eelwhile.'